CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 3rd. Sunday/ Damn, it's June already? Where did the time go? That's been happening to me alot lately. I'm losing track of time. I mean, Friday, I was in Baltimore hanging w/ a fellow writer... We were kicking around ideas about future projects we have yet to tackle... Haven't even written down one note about anything, yet we plotted a course of ideas that will last for a long time... The creative process is genius unto itself! And now I am back at my desk, tinkering w/ my journal, recording the doings of the last couple of days. Friday I was hopeful. Today I feel hopeless. Why is that? If I had (real) money, I could afford a "shrink" but I wouldn't go. Hell, I'd take that money and invest in a liquor store. My therapy would be a lot cheaper and I would feel the results (effects) of my (drinking) therapy a whole lot quicker than talking to some loony toons doctor at $150.00/hr and coming out feeling more crazy than I felt going in! But, I cannot afford a doctor and, at the very least, frequent a liquor store... So where does that leave me? Slowly I spiral into the abyss of depression. I blurt out sentence fragments at inopportune times, only to have people look at me, thinking I'm talking to myself (which I am!) and silently label me crazy! And during this whole process, time is marching on and I cannot get that seemingly "crazy" moment back when I started mumbling to myself while standing in a line at (hopefully) a liquor store waiting for my liquid medication. (And judging by the stocked shelves, they have the goods for what ails me!) CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 29th, Tuesday/ The holiday is over and things are back to normal. I'm back to doing my thing... sitting at the computer and thinking about what I would be doing if I had a boatload of money. The TV is on and some program about Orange County Housewives is on. Okay, I get TV. It's entertainment. It's staged stuff. I get it but do people, like what I'm watching, really exist? Are there really people this shallow living on Earth? Last time I checked there was a war going on under the guise of protecting American's freedom.(When translated means people are dying to allow shallow people, like the ones who live in Orange County, to stumble in stupidity.) I mean this show is hard to explain. You have to see it to believe it!/ So I'm thinking/dreaming about having a boatload of money but my fear (now) is if I had all that money, would I be shallow and stupid like those people in Orange County? I have a friend who told me, a few years ago, that American society was being divided between the "haves" and the "have nots!" I usually don't pay attention to that kind of conversation but I'll be damned if he wasn't right! (I mean gas is $3.00 a freakin' gallon now!) I need a car but if I had one, I wouldn't be able to afford the gas! But, w/out a car, I can't get to the places I need to get to when I need to get to them. So my social life suffers because of that and I sit at the computer writing about this stuff while I quietly go insane while this stupid program is on the TV. I'm not even watching it but I have it on to keep me company because the computer doesn't talk. Yeah, I could change the channel but there would only be another stupid TV show on. I used to think that it was only my life that is fucked up but I realize that I have a lot of company! I'm not as alone as I once thought! (And where is Orange County anyway? Pluto?) CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 27th, Sunday/ It's Sunday evening on Memorial Day weekend and I'm chillin'. Yesterday was a bust. I didn't do a damned thing so you would think I would have made an entry right? Anyway, I'm watching the Tom Joyner Show and Toni Braxton is on. I'm not a fan of hers but I got to thinking about her career. She was doing Tom Joyner's show, which is not a bad thing. But I got to thinking about how big she was coming out of the gate.You know, the whole Baby Face, LA Reid thing...Then I got to thinkin' about what it must be like when you have had the big buzz in your career and then you die out. It's like you have that dream about being some "big shot" in entertainment or sports or business and before you know it, your life has passed you by. And, if you ever had it, what is it like when you don't have it anymore? If you were lucky, you made some real money and had your name up in lights... People loved you and couldn't wait to see you! Your ass got real arrogant and you wouldn't sign an autograph for some tear filled child, standing there holding your picture that was torn out of a magazine... And, you just breeze on by like, "...How dare you ask me for my autograph!" You had a posse... An entourage if you will... Body guards! If anyone touched you they would have burst into flames! And now...now time goes by and your career is a pile of rubbish. There are no more fans. No more entourage, no posse... Body guards no longer want to guard your tired ass anymore. You're doing smaller venues and the sparse crowd is asking about who you are. The irony is that you STILL think you're hot! Your arrogance turns to anger... Rage even! You demand that people take your autograph! No one can find that "bobblehead" doll they used to have of you. When you come on TV, (after years of being absent from it), viewers are like..."Look, look who's on Carson Daly! It's what's his name?) Yeah! It's sad... but what if you are like me? What if you wanted all of those things to happen? What if you would have traded, including yo' momma, ANYTHING to have experienced that lifestyle and...What if you had those dreams to never materialize... CRAP!

COMPLAINT DEPT. by Al Brathway

I'm from Brooklyn, New York and I experienced something very disturbing the other day while visiting my family. I was over to my mother’s house and I had to go to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. The drugstore was approximately three blocks away. I left the house and had to turn onto a block called Montgomery Street. That particular block was the entry to a housing development and a college, which is directly across the street. It is dark so my sense of sight has to be a little sharper. (You never know what is lurking in a dark corner in Brooklyn, and that could be in broad daylight!) So, I’m paying attention to my surroundings as I walk. I walk a few steps and just happen to look down… and BAM! There it is! Pit bull doody! I swerve around it and walk a few more steps… and PLICKOW! Rotweiller doody!
I get it. This is the thing in the ‘hood. All the kids have these dogs now. I mean it bothered me that I had to weave my way through this crap all over the sidewalk. The law is that you are supposed to clean up after your dog but the kids never do. (Most adults don’t clean up after their dogs either!) So, I walk a little further and now I am strictly watching my step and, this time, I see what just sets me off! KICK KACK KICKOW! French Poodle doody! Now, I am pissed off! What is French Poodle doody doing in the ‘hood?
I usually do not vote but I am registering and voting in the next assemblyman election. This has got to stop!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 24th, Thursday/ I have always believed in GOD. There is no way the Universe can even exist w/out one. If for no other reason I cannot explain how I even came to be. Science, schmience... However, I started getting real confused when bussing came into play and I was bused way outside my 'hood to go to high school. It was the first time I ever went to school w/ white kids. It was also the first time I heard the argument about Jesus, GOD's rep, being Black or White! Personally, I didn't care what color He was and still don't but I wonder what it would be like if there were two Jesus' and they ever met, based on the difference of belief of what color Jesus was (is). Would there be a fight over turf? Would there be an argument over who they represented? Would each have a gang of diciples and stage "drive-bys" to eliminate the other? When each respective gang... uh... posse... uh...crew...uh... congragation (that's it!) hung out, would they get high to psych themselves up to ride their "low rider" carts into the territory of the other to make the hit? Would they wear bandanas or colorful robes?/ I didn't start thinking this way until I got married and my (new) bride insisted that I go to church. We church hopped looking for a "church home" so I saw how different races worshipped. I got real confused. I thought worship had no color... I grew up in the Episcopal Church. It was very structured. I had to go to class to get confirmed. I thought I was cool until my wife told me I had to be "born again!" I also noticed that my sex life was cool (freaky) until I got married and had to be born again. When I balked at the demand, I was ostrisized from her church (body)! I went Baptist but that was a disaster. The services looked like the church scene from the Blues Brothers' movie. I didn't even know the words to the hymes but, at least, I tried to lip sync anyway. (She caught me and said I wasn't trying hard enough to learn. Like lip syncing was easy!) And then there was another problem. I was into basketball so I wore sneakers all the time... (NIKE's preferably) My feet used to hurt so bad on Sundays it wasn't even funny. Eventually we got a divorce. I have mixed emotions about what happened but one good thing came out of that whole experience... My feet don't hurt anymore! CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 23rd, Wednesday/ I was on a city bus the other day and there were some kids in the back doing what they do. It was three of them but I wasn't sure that they were all the same gender. Two of them were definitely girls but I wasn't sure of what the third one was. Anyway, they got up to get off and the one I'm not sure of had the sagging pants thing going on. Personally I have no problem w/ the style. All generations go through their stages but I really don't get the sagging pants thing. At the very least it has to be very uncomfortable to walk w/ your pants strangling your thighs while you walk. But, you also have your FULL ass hanging out in the process! My mother used to tell me to make sure my underwear was clean in case I got into an accident. Now-a-days kids have eliminated the accident part. Kind of brings a new meaning to the term ..."showing your ass!" But, like I said, each generation has their thing. Guys are always motivated by what girls think... I'm sure that has something to do w/ it. Today the "bad boy" thing is tats (tattoos), street cred, and the look of having a load of shit in your pants!/ In a way I'm jealous. In my time, all I needed was some movie money, a car, and some interesting conversation. Now I would need plenty of money, drive on rims more expensive than the car, and the ability to call a woman a bitch and a 'ho in the same sentence. ("Yeah Dawg, I can see her getting hot off of that!") I remember being embarrassed to go into a drug store to buy one condom. Today, you have to buy the box set and in different colors!/ I have to admit to being facinated w/ the whole thing. I just don't understand how it works!/ In spite of it all, they look like they are having fun. CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 22nd, Tuesday/ Right now I am looking for work. I have a degree in English Literature and I have experience in basketball. I have traveled and soaked in other cultures. Yet, none of this shit counts towards me getting a job right now. I am frustrated and humiliated, yet my friends think I should do my best to maintain my sense of humor! (They must be sniffing crack! Maybe I should too...) Here is the thing about living in America that the terrorists don't understand. They think that I'm having the time of my life! They are jealous of me having the freedom to be out of work and can't pay my bills. They think that I have (had) the freedom to hobnob w/ the big boys at the World Trade Center and yuck it up everyday. They think that me and the policy makers of America meet for lunch and make decisions they don't care for. They want me to die by their hand because the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner decision (Life in Death decision handed down to the sailors who killed the Albatross was that they had to live on their boat w/out the winds and could not move!) is not a good enough punishment for me! Wanna talk about hell? Paris Hilton can get a job before me and she has no secondary education, no experience, AND a record! How is that for torture? All I've ever done is grow up Black! (Are we having thunderstorms again today?) Here is where the fracture gets compounded. I have no job which means I can't afford a car. (Maybe I'll tell you about the experiences I've had w/ cars sometime.) So, w/out money and a car means I can't have a woman... So now I can't have sex. (I can't even buy it, which is what I would be doing even if I had a girlfriend anyway!) On top of all of this, I have to worry about terrorist plots and sleeper cells as well as the normal crime that takes place on the street because I don't have a car and have to wait for a bus or train or walk! AND, how can I even get a woman riding on a bus? (Have you seen the women who ride buses these days!)She's gonna know that I don't have any money riding on a bus at high noon. And what are the terrorists going to think while they are standing there, waiting for the bus, w/ me? (They'll think that I'm dispensible or course!) CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

May 21st, Monday/ Got up this morning w/ nothing to look forward to but that's everyday."It's another beautiful day in Zamunda." I've already been out. Had to pay a bill. I hate paying bills! Now I have to learn to hate creating them./ In keeping w/ yesterday's theme, I'm picking up writing again. It's great therapy when you don't have a girlfriend to complain about. If I had one I'd be all wrapped up in drama, drama, and more drama... That's not necessarily a bad thing but I like comedy. My life is like a sitcom sometimes. Like the time when I left LA. (This was after "homegirl" threw me out because she said I couldn't write.) I thought that in order to put my life in some semblance of order, it was time for me to marry. "Whoa!" What the hell was going on in my brain to consider that? I thought that I needed a woman in my life... A constant presence of the female persuasion... I needed to "settle down." Settle down? Shit! My life only accelerated after that! There was ALWAYS something to do after I got married. Always somewhere to go. There was always something to buy... Some sale to catch. Shit... It didn't matter whether it was something we needed or not... We had to catch that sale. "Hey, there is a half off sale at the dollar store!" We were there, bright and early to be first in line in some small strip mall in some secluded neighborhood to be first in line. (She had a thing about getting in early to avoid the crowd... at a freakin' dollar store!) And the sex! What sex? There was a twisted irony in this marriage deal. I couldn't have a lot of sex w/ my wife because she didn't want to and there was more chicks interested in having sex w/ me because I was married but I couldn't have sex w/ them because I was married, yet I wanted more sex! Thanks GOD! I never accused you of NOT having a sense of humor! (Sometimes when I hear thunder I think that GOD just screwed over somebody and is having a belly laugh!) So I'm married, horny, miserable and I had moved back East where there is such a thing called Winter. If I were back in Cali going through this situation I might could dig it but... At least out there I could look at beautiful bronze chicks, walking around enjoying the weather and I could dream. However, I was back in Washington, DC, looking at pale women, dressed in business suits, taking on the weight of the world and hating the process and I'm smack dab in the middle of this nightmare! CRAP! (More tomorrow)

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

March 20th, Sunday/ Today is the first day of the rest of my life so I decided to blog my journal. Lately things have been going all wrong for me so I decided to do something about it. I haven't worked a regular job in 5 yrs because I don't seem to qualify for anything. Why I don't know. I altered my personality a bit. I used to just cuss people out. Now I fake like I like people. I'm thinking maybe that my aura is still transmitting my hatred. I noticed that the interviewers would have this look on their faces like I farted during the interview and decided that I was wrong for the job or something. So, I decided to write. Now, in my mind, I can write my ass off! I majored in English in college and I knew that I did not want to teach. Have you seen the American school system lately? I would be hired to do bouncer work in some school in the worst 'hood before they would let me teach. I'm 6'5, 235lbs and BLACK! No way they would hire me as a teacher! I'd get the class w/ all the "hip hop" types. Of course they would think I'm down w/ them because... well, I do dress hip hop style but I do that shit for survival purposes! I live in the 'hood! The way I look, you don't think a real estate agent is going to show me houses in the suburbs, do you? By the way, I gotta start contemplating my next move. This gentrification thing has reared its ugly head again. (I wish white folks weren't so wishy-washy!) Anyway, I started writing in college and have been (writing) ever since. The reason why I have not been successful selling anything is because the college I went to had no network thing in place. Anybody that graduated before me was so fed up w/ the school that they decided that if they made it they would not come back to help anyone out. However, they DO come back for Homecoming! Homecoming is the time when people come back to their respective alma matas to lie about how well they are doing in the outside world, knowing that they don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Hey, I've done it! How would they check up on me? The Alumni Association at my school never sends me anything. They say they don't know where I am. (I blame that on the gentrification thing!)And, I never stop by their booth at the Homecoming football game because I don't want them poking around in my business! Besides, at the college I went to, my professors never thought I would amount to anything anyway. They would be supportive to my face but... I remember having a meeting w/ the chair of the English Department one day and she was very encouraging in the meeting. When I left I dropped my book. Her phone rang. When she answered it I overheard her say that "...that sorry ass Al Brathway just left. He won't be shit after he leaves this school!" I've been depressed ever since./ So, I write for therapy purposes. I write so much that my hands cramp up when I pick up a pen so now I have to type everything. It's a good thing I don't have a girlfriend anymore. Imagine typing a love letter? (I actually did that and my ex told me I was an asshole and broke up w/ me. I think it was because I typed the love letter!...Bitch!) I have plenty of paperwork around. Partial scripts, poetry, short stories... I even moved to Cali to live w/ some friends and become a pro. That shit didn't work out though. The chick threw me out of the house. She claimed that I couldn't write so I couldn't help them. (Funny, that bitch never wrote anything. How would she know I couldn't write? I guess you become a critic when you can't write and I never felt the need to be a critic!) I'm tired. I'll write some more shit about my life tomorrow.

NOSE HAIR UP MY ASS! by Al Brathway

I am a CEO of a company and I have a problem. The problem is nose hair. Not mine mind you. I’m talking about my employees nose hair. Let me explain. I went to the doctor to have my postrate checked. I’m okay but my doctor said that he found nose hair up my ass. He did a test and discovered that it was not my hair. What was going on?

I ordered the whole company to be checked and sure enough there was a substance found on the noses of my employees. That substance coupled with the nose hair found up my ass exposed the condition. It is called Brownosehairitis. It is when a massive glob of nose hair is found in the rectum of the CEO of a company. Fortune 500 company CEO’s is infected the worse. The hair clogs the drain so to speak. The symptom for the employee is a glob of a brown substance found on the nose of the employee. A checkup is paramount. Early detection is key to a healthy and happy life for both the CEO and the employee.